


Safe

by Pianogirl



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Compromise, Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Nightmares, Protective!Hulk, Schmoop, Science Boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 06:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pianogirl/pseuds/Pianogirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony finally gets Bruce to sleep over, but Bruce has trouble handling it when he wakes up screaming from nightmares.</p><p>Or, Who needs a night-light when you have the Hulk?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe

**Author's Note:**

> _Very_ oblique references to the torture in Iron Man at the very beginning. After that, there's nothing here that should disturb anyone.

He can’t breathe.

He hurts everywhere.

In space, nobody can hear you scream (he learned that with the Chitauri). Underwater, they hear you, but they don’t care. He screams anyway.

The water is closing over his nose, his mouth, sealing him in, sealing his fate. His fate is out of his hands. His hands are tied.

He’s back in the cave. He always knew he would end up back here.

He’d do anything, but there’s nothing he can do.

He can’t breathe.

“Tony,” he hears from a distance, “Tony, you have to wake up, it’s ok now, you have to...” It’s a lie, but his hands are free now, somehow, and he thrashes out from the pressure on his shoulders and swings a fist wildly, aiming at something, anything, that might hurt. He has no illusions that he can get away, but the bastards should have something to remember him by.

“Tony, no, you can’t, please, I can’t...” He swings again, viciously, and connects. “Tony...” Something in the voice signals new danger, starts to draw him out of the dream. He claws his way up the the surface, shaking and sweating. There’s a roaring sound in his ears, and he thinks he can feel the bed vibrating like it’s trying to eject him.

Tony’s aware that the sheets are sweat-stuck to his torso, he’s gasping for breath, and he’s... not alone. It’s hard to see past the contours of the cave, still superimposed over everything he sees, and he struggles to drag his brain into the present. He’s in the Tower. He’s safe. He cooked dinner for Bruce and burned the potatoes but still managed to convince Bruce, _finally_ , to stay the night, which he’s never done before, and they made out until Bruce couldn’t manage his heartbeat anymore and then they fell asleep.

Just his luck, this is the first nightmare he’s had in months, and Bruce had to be there for it.

In the dim blue light from the arc reactor, he scans the room frantically and finally finds him sitting alert at the corner of Tony’s very large bed, except that he’s... bigger. Much, much bigger. And greener.

Shit.

This is... yeah, this is bad.

The Other Guy is tense and still as a rock, fists clenched on either thigh, like he’s waiting for the threat to present itself for demolition.

Tony takes a hiccuping breath, and freezes as the Hulk’s head swivels toward him. He tries to make himself very small and very quiet. Except... should he be running? Bruce made him sleep closest to the door; there’s a chance he could get out.

If he’s successful, he and Bruce will both emerge unharmed. And Bruce will never, ever touch him again.

He tries to strategize, tries to pull out some brilliant idea like he always does when he’s down to the wire, but with each shallow breath he gets more panicked -- the Hulk in front of him, the memory of pain and fear saturating every shadow -- and all he can think is that this is it, this is all he gets, this is his first and last night with Bruce no matter what he does and maybe also his last night ever.

He sobs, and the Hulk is on him before he can draw another breath.

 _I’m dead_ , Tony thinks, and he’d really like to meet his end bravely, with dignity, but fuck that, this really fucking sucks, so he screams and flails even though it’s like fighting a mountain, and braces himself for the end.

Except... he’s still alive. He’s pinned in place, he can’t move, but he’s... not dead.

He’s pretty sure of that, even though there’s no pain, which doesn’t make any sense.

Tony takes one experimental breath, then another. He blinks into the vague dark.

The Hulk is still there, still close. His fingers are like steel bands around Tony’s arms, but they are trapping without pressing. He knows the Hulk recognizes some friends from enemies, even has it in him to be an ally -- Tony will never forget how he was plucked from the sky as he tumbled to certain death -- but he wouldn’t have thought he could ever be... careful.

And yet, here he is. Alive. Whole. Safe?

He closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them, the Hulk’s face is very close, peering at him with something that looks a lot like worry.

Tony jumps, inasmuch as he can move at all, when the Hulk shifts again with disconcerting speed. Blunt fingers turn him from side to side, maneuver his arms and legs, press along his torso.

What the hell?

“WHERE HURT?” Hulk demands.

Injuries. He’s checking for injuries. Tony’s life has always been surreal, but now it’s a goddamn Picasso.

“I’m not hurt, big guy,” he says in a tone that’s almost even. _Yet_ , he thinks.

The Hulk grunts and continues to search his body with a weird sort of rough gentleness. “WHERE HURT?” Tony tries to shake his head but the Hulk grips it, holds it still, scrapes through his hair in search of injury. It’s not quite painful, but it doesn’t feel good.

Tony has fantasized, sometimes, about waking up to Bruce after a nightmare, imagined him warm and sad and soft, speaking in a low mumble and holding Tony close until he fell back asleep.

Tony wants to cry at how much this is not like that at all.

“DARK,” observes the Hulk. He sounds frustrated.

“Yeah, buddy, it’s pretty dark. I can fix that, is that ok?” Hulk grunts. “JARVIS, can you raise the lights? Just thirty percent of full, please.”

“Done, sir.”

Hulk continues his examination, pleased with the improved visibility, then drops Tony back onto the bed when he finishes. He sits heavily on the floor so that their heads are almost on a level, looking plaintive. “HULK SMASH?”

“No, big guy, there’s, uh, there’s nothing to smash.”

Hulk looks confused. “SCREAMING. TONY IN DANGER. HULK SMASH ENEMIES.”

“Uh...” Explaining how nightmares work is probably not a conversation the Hulk is going to follow too well. He’s working up to trying the concept of remembered fear when something crashes against the door, sending it careening inward, and fear is very much in the present again.

Tony’s heartbeat, still elevated from the nightmare, spikes back up to panic-attack levels, and he instinctively flinches back _toward_ the Hulk, covering his head. Something hard and immovable grips his torso, and the next thing he knows the Hulk is towering threateningly between him and a bunch of very loud SHIELD agents with very deadly weapons pointed at them.

In a certain optimistic light, it’s actually... very sweet.

But there’s no time for Tony to feel the love, with the cacophony of “Hulk, STAND DOWN!” and “Mr. Stark, are you all right?” and the growl Tony can _feel_ building in the Hulk’s chest.

Yeah, this is all going downhill pretty fast, and it was on low ground to begin with.

“Will everyone please SHUT THE FUCK UP?” Tony yells, and then the Hulk roars a much louder and more dangerous warning and he takes his own advice. Suddenly, everything is very, very quiet.

“Ok, big guy, ok. We’re just talking now. Everything is ok. I’m just going to talk to these nice SHIELD agents and then they are going to go away.” Hulk grunts something that sounds like it might be assent. Tony takes a deep breath. “Could you put me down now, please?” Hulk growls, his grip tightening. “Or not, yeah, ok, not is good, too. How about you just turn a little so I can look all these nice people in the eye, does that sound doable?” He’s impressed when the Hulk actually complies. Small steps.

He looks at the lineup of smug, square-jawed, upstanding idiots who’ve broken into his bedroom, takes a deep breath, and makes a mental note to give himself a fucking medal, ceremony and all, for keeping it together right now.

“Ok, all you good little SHIELD agents, please tell me in small words and soft tones what exactly you are doing here.”

There’s some muttering and shuffling and enough waving of guns that Tony starts to get nervous(er), and then a guy in back says, with obvious reluctance, “Stand down,” and pushes to the front, flipping up his visor so Tony can see his face.

Tony is in no mood to be making objective assessments right now, but he thinks his face is stupid.

“Sir,” Agent Stupid Face says, “We were deployed as part of an emergency protocol to make sure your life was safeguarded.”

“Excellent. Well, mission accomplished. I’m peachy. Carry on.” He’d probably be able to achieve a more authoritative tone, Tony reflects, if he wasn’t being carried against the Hulk’s chest like one of those reverse baby backpacks.

Agent Stupid Face continues, as if Tony hadn’t spoken, “There was a spike in your blood pressure, coinciding with the sensors picking up Dr. Banner’s transition to the Hulk, located in your room. It was determined that you were in danger, and we were sent to intercede on your behalf.”

“And you are?”

“Er, the night shift, sir.”

“I know the night shift.” Tony’s insomnia is legendary. He’s shared coffee, donuts, even a few illicit beers with most of the night shift, and no-one he knows is in this crowd.

Agent Stupid Face shuffles a little. “We’re the, um, night shift in training.”

“Fantastic. And you got in here exactly how?” Tony asks, still speaking quietly through a fixed, clenched-teeth smile.

“Sir, I apologize,” JARVIS chimes in. “They used the failsafe you installed as part of your agreement with Miss Potts last year to override my protocols. I was unable to stop them or warn you.”

Right, his “agreement” with Pepper. Where he agreed to install some unhackable safeguards that would make it impossible for him to quietly kill himself without her knowledge, and she agreed to speak to him ever again. He knew he’d end up regretting that.

Agent Stupid Face, who jumped when JARVIS started speaking, just looks at the floor.

“Great, ok, that’s just great. Truly some inspired thinking there. Well, what I need you to do now is leave so I can go back to sleep.”

“Uh, sir?” One of the braver agents-in-training gestures toward the Hulk. “Shouldn’t we... do something about him?”

“You? No. You shouldn’t do anything.” Tony can feel the Hulk getting (more) aggravated in response to the anger in his voice, and he makes a herculean effort to relax. “I’m just fine here. My _boyfriend and I_ are just fine here, except you just barged into my bedroom and startled us and now we would like to go back to sleep.”

Wait. He rewinds a second. Boyfriend? Did he just say boyfriend? Because that’s a... discussion they definitely haven’t had yet. Not that Bruce will necessarily remember... which might be for the best... though any shot they had at keeping things private for a while is completely blown... Ok, focusing on the problem at hand...

“Nothing is wrong.” Short, simple sentences are the way to deal with these people, he’s decided. “Please go now.”

“But, sir --”

“Right, new strategy, anyone who’s not gone in the next, oh, let’s say thirty seconds will be assigned to processing Barton’s paperwork for the next year.” It’s a struggle, but he manages to maintain a quiet, friendly tone to go with what he knows is the worst threat he can level at them. “Any takers on that? No?” They look doubtful, but they’re slowly backing out of the room. “Excellent. Lovely working with you this evening. JARVIS, please make sure the door hits them all on the way out.”

When the door closes, Tony sags a little in the Hulk’s grip. “Thanks, Big Green. You did good. You can set me down, now.” Hulk does so with exaggerated care. Tony pats the bed. “Sit up here with me, ok?”

“TONY NOT HURT?” Hulk sounds confused now more than anything.

“No, buddy, you kept me safe.” Tony gently pats one giant green knee. He’s not sure what comes next. Does he just wait? What will bring Bruce back? Usually Hulk just exhausts himself fighting and falls asleep. What is going on in that head?

He stares at the Hulk.

Hulk stares back.

He doesn’t realize how the silence is still stretching out until Hulk shifts awkwardly -- if it was anyone else, Tony would call it fidgeting -- and says, sulky as a five-year-old denied ice cream, “STUPID FACE HELMET MAN.”

A hysterical laugh bubbles up in Tony’s throat. “You said it, dude.”

They stare some more. Finally, Tony shrugs. “Tell you what, big guy, you didn’t get to smash, that’s kind of disappointing, right?”

“HULK LIKE SMASH,” Hulk agrees.

“How about I promise to take you upstate tomorrow? I’ll put on the Iron Man suit, we can knock some trees around?” It’s worth a try, bargaining with Hulk like he’s a recalcitrant kindergartner.

“HULK LIKE.”

“I need you to do something for me first. Can you let Bruce come back? He’ll let you out later so we can smash together, but right now I need to talk to him.”

The Hulk appears to think about this for a few moments, and then he curls up in the fetal position like a little kid going to sleep, and he starts to shrink.

“No,” says Bruce when he’s back, shivering and small and naked. “No no no no no.” He flails off the bed and starts rooting for clothes amid the tangled mass of sheets on the floor. There’s still a greenish tinge to his skin, and he’s almost hyperventilating.

“Bruce, breathe,” Tony orders, grabbing his shoulders and forcing him to be still. “Breathe. Deep breaths. It’s ok. Stay with me. Breathe.” Bruce reaches up to where Tony’s hands grip him, but instead of pushing him away he latches onto his wrists and clings for all he’s worth.

“I have to go,” Bruce says, calmer but barely, after he and Tony just breathe together for a few minutes. He detaches Tony’s hands from his shoulders, walks stiffly to the closet, and pulls on a pair of Tony’s sweatpants.

“I’ll return these tomorrow,” he says, retrieving his shirt from where it’s folded on the dresser.

“Hey, at least you were half-naked already,” Tony tries to joke around the ice in the pit of his stomach. “Your shirt survived.”

There’s that hunted look in Bruce’s eyes, the look that reminds Tony that Bruce is only ever one decision away from disappearing so completely that even Tony, with all his resources, might never find him again.

“Please stay,” Tony says. Bruce shakes his head, eyes wild.

“I could have killed you, Tony.”

“You didn’t, though. I don’t think it was even a possibility.”

Bruce continues like he hasn’t heard. “I can’t... if I hurt you, I would never... that would be _it_ for me, Tony. And probably for you, too.” He tries to pull on his shoes while standing, hops and stumbles, and is forced to sit on the edge of the bed.

Tony sits next to him. “I’ll take that risk.”

Bruce is stone-faced as he pulls on his second shoe. “I can’t let you make that decision.” He rises to leave and, almost without thinking about it, Tony shoots a hand out to grab his wrist.

“Please. Please don’t.”

“Tony.” Bruce’s voice cracks, and so does his face. He looks as lost and alone as Tony feels.

Tony shakes his head and holds onto Bruce with both hands. “Can we just... please, can we not do this tonight?”

Maybe it’s the nightmares, maybe it’s the crash from all the adrenaline of Bruce hulking out and SHIELD breaking into his room, but he’s feeling raw and vulnerable and honest and just too damn tired to do the whole “whatever you want, it doesn’t matter to me” dance.

“Bruce, please, I’m exhausted and sick and I can still see that damn cave burned into my eyelids and if you don’t stay I will go to the lab and work and I will be ok but the only way I’m going back to sleep is if you’re here and I don’t want to manipulate you and you can go if you want but please, please, you need to believe me when I say _you make me feel safe_ and _I want you to stay_.” He’s out of breath when he finishes, and if he wasn’t so tired he’d be completely appalled at himself. As it is, he drops Bruce’s hand like it’s on fire and turns his head away so he doesn’t have to look at him.

Bruce’s hesitation is the longest moment of Tony’s life. He starts violently when Bruce puts a hand on his shoulder, then looks up into sad eyes.

“I really didn’t hurt you, not even by accident?” Bruce asks, soft, like he can’t believe it.

“No. I promise. I promised you I would say. I was scared when I woke up to the other guy, but all he did was protect me. I won’t even have bruises. Bruce, I promised, you have to trust me.”

Bruce takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Ok. Ok. We were lucky, maybe, but ok, I’ll accept that.”

“Or maybe we weren’t lucky. Maybe this can... _Please_ , Bruce.” Tony feels utterly pathetic, but he’s too wrung out to care.

“Look, Tony, I’m still... on edge. Apparently,” grimacing wryly, “it works me up when you’re hurt. In the field I expect it, but when I just wake up in the night and you’re in pain, I can’t... I’m still really close to losing it, and I don’t know if I can get that under control right here, with you right here.” He pauses, and Tony feels his heart drop.

“Ok. Ok, I understand. It’s ok.” He turns his head away again. They were so close to making this work. He was so close to getting... this. Bruce. Love.

( _Love?_ )

Bruce sits back down on the edge of the bed. His hands are shaking with the strain of holding back the Hulk, but his fingers as he cards them through Tony’s hair are unbearably gentle. Tony can hardly breathe around the lump in his throat.

“Tony, I’m going to go now, but...” Tony nods silently and curls into himself, and Bruce swears.

“Tony. I just need a little... twenty, thirty minutes, ok? And then I’ll come back. Will you be ok for half an hour? I just need to... I need to meditate, find the calm again. And... I’m sorry, I wish it wasn’t this way, but I need to be alone to do it. But then I’ll come back. Ok? If you want me to. Please say that’s ok. I wish... I’m sorry I’m not... good enough to...”

Tony swallows and turns over. “You’ll come back?” he asks.

Bruce cups his cheek, and Tony shudders a little at how good it feels. “Yes,” Bruce says firmly.

“Then that’s what I need. You coming back. You can leave, just... come back. That’s good.”

“Ok.” Bruce looks like he wants to say more, but then a shudder overtakes his body and he grits his teeth. Tony can see the green suffuse and then recede from his eyes. “Thirty minutes. I promise.” And then Tony is alone in an empty, too-dark room.

He doesn’t make even a token effort at relaxing while he waits for Bruce to return. His brain is buzzing, and he’s about to crawl out of his skin. He turns the lights up as bright as they will go, and sketches ideas for a new AI, and tries not to think about how he just stripped himself bare and raw in front of Bruce. He’s not sure what’s worse -- that Bruce _left_ , or that Bruce is coming back and and Tony will have to face him fully awake, drained of adrenaline, all cards on the table.

He can’t imagine Bruce will find that moment any easier, and he’d almost expect him to not come back, to run away even, except that Bruce promised and Bruce’s promises are worth everything.

When there’s a soft knock on the door, twenty-six minutes and eighteen seconds after Bruce shut it behind him, Tony tells Jarvis to open it and doesn’t look up from his work.

Bruce comes up behind him, lays both hands lightly on his shoulders, and peers over his head like this is something they do every night.

“Doing science?” He sounds, impossibly, amused, and it’s... right. It’s easy. Suddenly instead of two messed-up people trying to date through massive control issues, they’re just best friends, science buddies, two people who spend hours a day together tinkering and talking and pushing and helping, who also just happen to want to kiss and cuddle and at some hopeful point in the future fuck each other’s brains out and then wake up in the morning and share coffee and nerd-talk like usual, only naked.

You know, normal.

Tony sets down his pencil, looks up into Bruce’s worried face, and grins a crooked welcome. Bruce’s eyes crinkle when he’s pulled down into Tony’s lap, bride-style.

“I was remembering this TED Talk I saw the other day about a robot that does standup comedy but it was actually kind of bad at it and it only had pre-programmed jokes and I thought, I can do way better than that. So, see, an AI that can learn humor.” He waves one arm expressively at the notes and algorithms scrawled out before him, keeping a firm grip on Bruce with the other.

“Tony, this... in half an hour? You’re incredible.”

Tony ignores that. “It would learn to tailor it by person, so, say, it would follow Steve around telling dirty jokes, or...” Bruce coughs. “...ok, fine, it would only tell Steve the cleanest of clean jokes about puppy dogs and grandmas and apple pie. Or it would follow Thor around reciting epic poetry and poop jokes. Or you, it would tell you really obscure funny science things, like chemical codes for stink bombs and stuff, I don’t know...”

“It would follow us around?”

“Yeah, I thought I’d build in an algorithm where it could tell if someone needed cheering up.”

“Oh, Tony.”

Tony brushes off Bruce’s sympathetic tone. “It could wander the Tower looking for victims... er, sad people... or Jarvis could deploy it... Maybe not just jokes, too. Maybe YouTube videos, like with the cute baby bears wrestling for Thor, or Simon’s Cat for Natasha...”

Tony’s still shirtless, and Bruce brushes his fingers along the edges of the arc reactor as he babbles. It should make his skin crawl, but instead it’s soothing.

Tony keeps talking because otherwise he’ll have to think about everything that happened tonight and he’d rather plot Avenger-cheering-slash-world-domination with Bruce until he’s too tired to see straight.

Finally, Bruce yawns. It’s not subtle at all. “Ready for bed?” he asks.

“Fuck, it’s 4 am, isn’t it?” Tony doesn’t wait for an answer. “I’m sleeping until noon, and then I’m getting pancakes and a fucking _ocean_ of caffeine.”

“Sounds good to me,” Bruce says, towing him up from the chair. “I know where you hide the good syrup.”

“Everyone knows where I hide the good syrup except Thor, because he would drink it all, and Rogers, because he can’t keep a secret,” Tony babbles, allowing himself to be maneuvered onto the bed.

Bruce starts to undress, and Tony leans up on one elbow, interested to see how far down he’ll strip.

“We’ve kind of lost our natural date rhythm, now, haven’t we,” Tony muses as Bruce toes off his shoes. “There’s morning after protocol, but no-one ever teaches you middle-of-the-night when you wake up crying and turn into a giant green rage monster and SHIELD agents break into your room protocol.”

“Tony,” says Bruce fondly as he dispenses with the shirt and stretches out next to him, “Stop talking.”

“You left your pants on,” Tony says, mildly disappointed.

“I did.”

“Wanna make out more?”

“You can’t tell me you’re not exhausted,” Bruce says.

“Priorities.”

Bruce groans and rolls on top of Tony for one hungry, deep, _amazing_ kiss that leaves Tony breathless and clinging.

“You are... _really_ good at that, you know,”

Bruce give him the shy grin which is the Bruce equivalent of a smirk.

“Kind of a waste of talent, really, all those years on the run.”

“How do you know I didn’t have people to kiss in every port?”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Then you should probably be making up for lost time now, don’t you think?” Tony rewinds and replays. “With me, I mean. Not with people in every port. I mean, if you, oh crap, ha, I--”

“ _Tony_ ,” Bruce says, and presses into him with a slow, thorough kiss filled with enough tenderness and care to bring tears to Tony’s eyes. Not that he’ll ever admit it.

It’s a little terrifying and a little exhilarating to be held like this, unable to hide his face, no room for misdirection, all of Bruce’s attention hyperfocused on him. Something catches and then breaks free inside him, and he gives a little shuddering sigh and goes boneless, finally able to just shut up drop all the masks and sink into the bed.

He really is exhausted.

Bruce’s rumpled face hovers over him, close and warm and solid, eyes trained on his, filling up his field of vision and driving the last vestiges of the cave from his waking mind.

“Thanks for staying,” Tony says, and Bruce nods seriously, studying him.

“I still can’t believe you’re ok,” he says, voice full of wonder, still heavy and solid on top of Tony so he knows he’s not about to leave.

“The other guy was kind of sweet, actually.” Tony laughs at the face Bruce pulls at that, and finally Bruce laughs too, sighs, and rolls them so that he’s lying on his back and Tony is sprawled comfortably across him, Bruce’s arm an anchor around his waist, feeling unsettlingly open and... safe.

“What was the nightmare about?” Bruce asks, and when Tony shrugs a little, adds, “I’m ok now. You don’t have to talk about it, but I’m me for the night, either way. I won’t have to leave again.”

Tony breathes Bruce in. “Afghanistan,” he says simply, and Bruce’s arms tighten around him until it’s almost painful. He makes a small noise of protest.

“Sorry,” Bruce says, arms loosening instantly.

“Don’t be,” Tony says. “I... you make me feel safe. And lucky. I’m glad you were here, even if things went a little... weird. And green.”

“Safe with the Hulk,” Bruce says, disbelieving.

“Safe with _you_ ,” Tony corrects, burrowing in. “Just go with it, Banner. Have your little freak-out tomorrow.” He yawns. “I need my beauty sleep now.”

Just as Tony’s about to drift off, he feels Bruce’s arm tighten slightly around his waist, and a voice rasps tentatively in his ear, “Um. ‘Boyfriend’?”

Tony squirms a little. He’s never sure what Bruce will remember from his Hulk episodes. “Yeah?” He doesn’t think he can take it at this point in the night if Bruce wants to argue the point.

“Yeah?” Bruce sounds humbled and happy and a little scared.

“Yeah.” Tony might not _feel_ exactly confident, but he infuses the single word with all the firmness and affection he can muster.

Bruce laces their hands together on his chest, and Tony feels the steady, lulling pulse of Bruce’s heart against his knuckles, his cheek, everywhere.

“Ok. Um, good.” Bruce’s tone is threaded with approval and shyness as he pulls Tony closer, and Tony relaxes into it, drifting again.

“You make me feel safe, too,” he hears in his ear, so soft he might have imagined it, just before he sinks completely into sleep.

He doesn’t have any more dreams that night.

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbetaed. All comments, thoughts, concrit, suggestions, etc. are very much appreciated. Thanks for reading!


End file.
